


Team Bonding

by sirenseven



Category: New Teen Titans, Teen Titans (Comics), Titans (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Come Inflation, Community: dckinkmeme, Consensual Somnophilia, Dom/sub, Double Penetration in One Hole, Gangbang, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, No Incest, Object Insertion, Oral Sex, Orgy, Overstimulation, Painplay, Safe Sane and Consensual, Spitroasting, Sub Dick Grayson, Sub Jason Todd, Sub Tim Drake, Subspace, Vaginal Sex, and many more characters/ships in the background, pervy power usage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24191377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirenseven/pseuds/sirenseven
Summary: It's not a rule, it's just a long held tradition of team bonding by fucking the current Bat on the Teen Titans.They're very into it.
Relationships: Bart Allen/Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent/Cassie Sandsmark, Dick Grayson/Joseph Wilson, Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Dick Grayson/Koriand'r/Victor Stone, Dick Grayson/Roy Harper, Dick Grayson/Teen Titans, Garfield Logan/Jason Todd, Garth/Dick Grayson/Roy Harper/Donna Troy/Wally West, Jason Todd/Teen Titans, Tim Drake/Rose Wilson, Tim Drake/Teen Titans
Comments: 14
Kudos: 279





	Team Bonding

**Author's Note:**

> another one for [the kink meme](https://dckinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/766.html?thread=79358#cmt79358), but actually healthy and sane (if very porny) for once

It's not a rule.

It's just...happenstance.

As in, Dick _happened_ to be the only bottom on a team of pushy doms. When he'd mentioned that, of course, every single one of them had been loud in their protests that Dick was clearly the biggest control freak of all, even if it didn't extend to the bedroom. For once, stopping the argument had been easy.

Y'know, maybe “bedroom” wasn't the right term.

Dick gasped as Garth swam them to the pool's surface, easily holding Dick up with a single arm. In another situation, he would've been forced to fight the tingling exhaustion through his body, but right now he was content to sag back against the other boy, panting. The water lapped pleasantly cool around them.

“So he really can hold his breath for five minutes,” Donna said, grinning where she perched on the side of the pool.

Her hand was down the front of her bikini bottoms, lazily rubbing herself. Dick couldn't imagine she was in any rush. He'd pushed the bottoms aside earlier and earned two orgasms from her with his mouth before Garth asked if he wanted to go under.

“Not exactly what I meant,” Roy said, a few feet behind her on a lounge chair. His arms were crossed behind his head, despite the obvious arousal straining his swim trunks.

Garth chuckled next to Dick's ear, swimming them to the side of the pool where Donna captured his mouth. Dick rested his full weight on the Atlantian, letting Donna take what she wanted. When Garth ground lightly against him, he clenched on the soft cock still inside him just to hear the other boy gasp.

Donna tugged his bottom lip with her teeth, slowly withdrawing. Her tongue was quickly replaced by a pair of fingers, and Dick moaned when he realized which hand it was.

“Send him over here,” Roy said when Donna dragged the fingers out, eyeing Dick like a particularly juicy piece of steak.

Dick grinned. Roy still had a tank top on along with with his trunks, and Dick was looking forward to peeling both off.

Garth turned Dick's head back for another kiss of his own, before pulling out and making them both groan.

“Thanks, baby,” he whispered against Dick's lips.

“Anytime,” Dick murmured, feeling punch drunk.

Together the pair of them grabbed him, Garth's hands on his hips, Donna's under his chest, and lifted him out of the pool like it was nothing. Super strength. Dick never got tired of that.

The water dripped off him in rivulets, along with the come slipping onto his thighs. Dick squeezed his hair out as Donna and Garth propped him gently on his knees.

“Finally,” Wally complained, two seats over from Roy. “We couldn't even see you guys under there.”

“You could've seen them if you'd ducked under too,” Donna pointed out. A shiver passed through Dick at the realization that she must have been doing just that while he was distracted. “Lazy boys.”

Wally looked away, still apparently attached to the guise that he wasn't interested, but Roy just shrugged, all cocksure confidence.

Donna pressed a kiss to the back of Dick's shoulder, and then playfully smacked his ass, nudging him towards Roy. It was only a few feet, so Dick crawled, relishing the eyes he could feel on his back and the slackening of Roy's jaw. He couldn't put words exactly to how it made him feel, them watching, but his cheeks flushed and his stomach tightened and his cock dripped onto the stone. Not, for the record, the most comfortable material to crawl on, but well worth it.

“Hey, what do you care, West?” Roy said, snapping out of his distraction over watching Dick to indulge in his second favorite hobby of mocking Wally. “I though you were _straight_?”

Wally turned as red as his hair. “I'm—shut up. I'm Midwestern.”

“Is that a code word for heterosexual?” Roy teased.

“You're a California jackass, Roy.”

“Do heterosexuals have code words too?” Garth murmured behind Dick. “I can't keep up.”

“Man's world is confusing,” Donna agreed.

Dick laughed, peeking back at them as he reached Roy's chair. “They're joking.”

“Oh.” Both transplants blushed. Ironic, considering their complete lack of embarrassment over earlier activities.

If he thought too much about Donna riding his face or Garth fucking him underwater though, he was definitely gonna come, and he didn't want to do that without someone inside him.

He knelt up in front of Roy, the other boy sliding down to the edge of the lawn chair with a cocky ease.

“How's it goin', sweet thing?” Roy asked, brushing through his wet hair. Dick leaned into the hand.

“Pretty good. I'm gonna blow you now,” he said, and delighted in the way Roy's mouth dropped open, aplomb slipping before he recovered.

“I, uh. Yeah. Yeah, totally.”

Dick mouthed against Roy's covered cock, hiding a laugh.

“Take this off,” he added, shoving up the hem of the older boy's top.

Roy stripped it without question.

Nuzzling his face distractedly against the trunks, Dick drunk in the expanse of revealed skin as if he'd never seen it before. Not as freckled as Wally, a little more tan. He wondered if Roy got a lot of sun, living in Star City, or if he was mostly out at night. More importantly, he wondered what Roy's nipples felt like in his mouth. The latter was a question easily answered.

Roy's chest rumbled with a groan when he caught the first, licking, sucking, and nipping in turns to figure out what worked best.

“Yeah,” Roy exhaled. “So good, baby.”

Dick moaned, sliding to suckle on the other side.

“Yeah, you like that? Look so good like this, Dickie.”

“Boy Wonderful,” Donna called, and Dick hid a blush in Roy's chest.

He peeked up under his lashes, well aware of how it make him look, and pecked a last kiss before dragging his lips down Roy's torso. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, making his heart pound harder, wanting to be as good for them as they were being to him.

Roy kept his hands on the seat as Dick dragged down his swim trunks, eyes dark. Dick licked his lips in preparation, and then dove onto the cock like a popsicle, sucking on the head. Roy threw his head back, fingers clenching white on the chair's slats.

Dick licked all the way down, and bobbed back up with a pop.

“You can, um, hold my hair if you want,” he said, abashed enough by the words to keep his voice low.

“Yeah?” Roy leered down, shoulders loose. Dick knew the confidence was an act, but the implied authority made his cheeks heat up anyway. “Want me to guide you where to go, baby?”

Dick ducked his head, swallowing half of Roy's cock in one go so he didn't do something embarrassing like moan. Fingers tangled in his hair, not pushy, but testing how much they could guide before Dick balked. He didn't. Balk.

There were more soft sounds of skin behind him, and Garth and Donna murmuring. Dick didn't catch every word, but he could tell it was about him, and a lot of _good_ and _pretty_.

He couldn't stop thinking about them looking at him. About _where_ they were looking. Now that the water was drying, he could distinctly feel the trickles of Garth's come. It was a little uncomfortable, but not as much as the need still bubbling in him.

The next time Roy pulled him up, Dick touched his wrist lightly and withdrew the whole way.

He twisted his head towards Wally, breathing hard. Roy's cock was right next to his face, and if Dick thought about that too hard he was going to get embarrassed, but if he didn't it was just hot as hell.

“So how thoroughly are we refuting that straight thing?” Dick asked, arching his back further.

Wally's eyes locked onto his ass. “Yeah, I, uh, think that's been debunked.”

Dick grinned and ducked back down to suck along the cock so conveniently beside him while Roy pulled his hair.

“Now, you know you're not supposed to be fast at everything, right, Kid Flash?” Roy teased, as Wally lost his swimsuit at superspeed and zoomed over.

Wally scoffed. “Bet I last longer than you, _Speedy_.”

Dick rolled his eyes and, as Roy started some retort or any other, cut the whole thing off by swallowing him down to the base. Roy let out a sharp moan, gripping his head.

He withdrew at the most tantalizing pace he could muster, before propping his arms over Roy's thighs and twisting to look at Wally.

“Are you guys going to fight the whole time, or are you going to learn to share?”

“We can share,” Wally agreed instantly, eyes blown wide.

“Yes, sir, Mister Leader-man,” Roy said with far more satire, though his voice was breathless.

“I love teamwork,” Garth called. He'd slipped out of the pool to press behind Donna, fingering her beneath her swimsuit, with the bikini top now discarded.

She smiled, kneading her own breasts. “This is the best team bonding ever.”

In full agreement, Dick turned back to the task at hand, wondering how he could get Roy to fuck his mouth without having to say it out loud. He almost choked when Wally slid into his hole, still slick with Garth's release.

God, he'd forgotten Wally could _vibrate_.

-

It's not a _rule_.

It was just a habit. By the time the team had split up, and rejoined, and shuffled around, most of the original members leaving and new ones joining up, they could have changed it. But every new addition only enjoyed the ol' team building standby more, and somehow it only cemented.

“I'm fucking in love with you,” Dick panted, as Kori pounded relentlessly into his prostate with her strap.

She hummed in delight. “And I, you.”

In another time, he would've thought it impossible he could get off again, but they'd all long since proven him wrong on that front.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd touched the ground. She was holding him up purely with her hands around his ass, and her fucking incredible cock, giant and orange and silicone.

He wasn't even allowed to lean back on Vic, though the man was so close behind him Dick could feel his body heat, pinching and twisting Dick's nipples ruthlessly. The strain to keep himself upright was demanding on his already sore muscles, but he was determined to follow orders.

A particularly harsh pinch timed to the exact moment of Kori's thrusts almost made him lose it, crying out.

“God, yes, yeah,” Dick babbled. “Vic. Vic,Vic, let me get you off.”

Vic laughed in a puff of air against Dick's neck, hands softening to a tease.

“Think Kori's got you pretty occupied, short pants.”

“No, I can do it. Kori, can I?”

Kori smiled indulgently, that flash of teeth and warmth and _life_ that he fell for, pace not slowing in the slightest.

“Of course you can, Dick.”

Vic pressed a nipping kiss to the nape of his neck, and pulled back to removed his codpiece. Dick was glad he didn't feel compelled to wear anything else anymore. They'd worn him down, their Vic, made him comfortable without hiding the metal parts. No freaks in Titans Tower. Aliens and metas and cyborgs ahoy. And Dick.

“Here,” Donna said, suddenly appearing at his shoulder.

She'd fallen into the habit of getting off only at the beginning and end of their little festivities, when there was more than one of them playing with Dick. In between, she watched everyone with both arousal and caution, and insistently ensured Dick got proper breaks.

And, sometimes, leaned in at the perfect moment to provide a new toy.

Dick nodded fervently at the nipple clamps in her hand, clinging to Kori as the pair of them clipped them on. Every bounce of Kori's hips jostled them, sending tingles down his body.

Vic had pulled himself out, and Dick grinned at the sight.

“Take me up higher?” he asked Kori, hanging onto her shoulders.

“Higher?” Her brows quirked, but she followed the request, drifting a few more feet up. Unfortunately, she had to pause in her thrusting for it, but the warm skin of her arms wrapping around Dick's back was nice consolation.

“There,” Dick said, when he'd judged the distance about right.

He wrapped his legs around Kori tightly, feeling the pleasant buzz of everyone's eyes on him, and slowly arched all the way back until he was dangling from her. His head hung upside-down, mouth at just the right level for Vic to use.

“Ready,” Dick said cheerfully.

Kori laughed above him. The new position dampened her ability to fuck him, but Dick knew better than to doubt his super friends. With her strong hands moving him by his thighs, she set to slow and deep drags instead, making Dick shiver with each one.

“Goddamn, Robbie, you're something else,” said Vic.

Dick grinned, and then opened his mouth wide, tongue stuck out in welcome.

Vic did not disappoint.

It was overwhelming. Kori deep inside him, holding him up; Vic sliding through his mouth, blowjob just as subject to her rhythm as the rest of him; blood rushing to his head. Ha, both of his heads. He couldn't get Vic properly down his throat like this, but he compensated with hands and suction and every trick he knew. No one was complaining.

By the time multiple sets of hands were sliding over Dick, stroking his muscles, his legs, Kori finally wrapping one around his length, Vic flicking the clips, he was a goner.

The climax hit him like a train, dropping like a puppet and counting on them to hold him up. His vision whited out in wave after wave. When he started to regain awareness, Vic was coming too, jerking himself off, and Dick opened his mouth to catch some as it stripped across his face.

His entire body hummed, only vaguely aware of hands pulling him upright and laying him on something soft. He whined when Kori pulled out, clenching on nothing.

“Shh,” she soothed. “No one is going far.”

Sure enough, someone was still petting him, curled up beside.

Dick blinked to another form appearing over him, and opened his mouth to let Donna pour the energy drink in. Donna was the best. He loved her so much.

“How you doing there, honey?” she asked, leaning down to eye level. Couch. He was on the couch, the extra-large modern one that didn't have armrests.

“Good,” Dick hummed. “Love you.”

“I love you too,” Donna said. “You want to keep going?”

“Mhm. Can I eat you out?”

“Not yet, hon. Not everyone's done yet, remember?”

Dick didn't remember much right now, but he took her word for it.

Sure enough, the hands on him had begun to move, a mouth following. When Dick got the clever idea to look down, he found a head of curly blonde hair.

“Hey, Joe,” he murmured.

 _Hello_ , Joey signed, like it was a completely casual conversation, kissing from his neck down to his chest.

“Were you watching?”

 _Yes_. Joey slowly removed one of the clips, soothing over the sore nub with his tongue when Dick gasped. He moved to repeat on the other side after a moment.

Dick felt some portion of his energy return, though he lingered in that happy mindless place.

“D'you wan' fuck me?”

Joey kissed down, down, down, mischief in his eyes when he looked up. Dick languidly followed his nudge to roll over, smiling into the couch cushions.

He had the best friends.

-

It's not a rule.

It was pure coincidence that both Robins happened to like being on the bottom and being told what to do. No one had been planning on it.

Only they'd been at the end of a bit of classic team building—a smaller group than usual, half the Titans having begged off for feeling too old in comparison to their youngest temporary recruit—and Robin Two-Point-Oh had looked over and said, “hey, you could fuck me when I'm sleeping too,” and what were they going to do? Say _no_ to that?

Which was how Gar found himself sliding into a soft and limp body, groaning when Jason finally stirred and clenched around him.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he teased, like they hadn't talked and planned and agreed on some very light sleep-aids so Mega Bat Preparedness Training wouldn't wake him up right away. “About time you got up.”

Jason moaned and arched, squeezing down again in a way that threatened to make Gar lose it right then.

“You slept through _all_ the prep, and losing all your clothes, and getting your cock locked up,” he continued, thrusting long and steady.

Jason looked around, slowly seeming to notice that he was only one naked in the room and shuddering. Gar himself had only pulled down his pants enough to free his dick, watching it press into Jason and stretch his rim. Green maybe wasn't generally considered the sexiest color, but Gar figured that was only because most people hadn't met him.

“Hey,” he added, to the room at large, but mostly to himself, “what could I turn into that would just have, like, the biggest dick?”

“Do you,” Jason mumbled, “ever shut up?”

He pushed himself up to hands and knees, and thrust back before Gar could answer, forcing a faster rhythm. Gar groaned and pushed to meet it, thoughts of transformation fleeing his mind.

Maybe they should make it an official tradition.

-

It's not a rule, though.

What was it people said? Two's a coincidence; three's a pattern?

They were definitely up to a pattern. That had been made clear months ago, when Raven had tested out her new younger body and her newly re-teenage mind, and offhandedly mentioned something while Tim was on his knees. Even with the older members moving on once these new Teen Titans were set, Tim's teammates had been unrelenting ever sense.

Tim panted, trying to shift for a more comfortable position before Conner's hands caught and stilled him. He groaned in protest. It felt like he'd been here for hours, sitting on Conner's lap while the others chatted and Tim went slowly insane. He clenched around Conner's cock just to be a nuisance.

“Hey, none of that,” Conner said, catching his breath and smacking Tim on the thigh.

Tim whimpered. Maybe he should have been humiliated that he'd been brought down to wordless whines, warming Conner's cock with Cassie's lariat wrapped around and around to tie him up, but mostly he just felt...safe. Right.

“Is he being bad?” Cassie asked, lounging on the other side of the ridiculously huge bed like she was unaware of her own nudity.

“No,” Tim moaned, hands flexing at his sides where they were pinned. “No, I'm good. I've been good.”

Cassie hummed thoughtfully.

“ _Are_ you good?” Conner rumbled behind him. His hands slipped around from Tim's hips to tease the inside of his thighs where they were spread wide around Conner's legs.

“I think he's been good,” said Bart.

“You're just saying that because you're ready to go again,” said Cassie.

“Cass, I need you to understand that I am literally always ready to go at any time. Many times in succession, if at all possible.”

“You all suck,” Tim muttered.

Stupid Conner, with his Kryptionian endurance, staying hard through multiple orgasms. Stupid Bart, with his speedster refractory period. Stupid Cassie, with her not-even-a-superpower multiple orgasms, just the lack of a restrictions from a dick. Stupid team, with their complete lack of pity for mere human Tim Drake, that he...loved and ate up and flourished under.

Alright, he couldn't complain too much.

Especially when Conner said, “You know, I think Bart's right,” and then suddenly Tim was bouncing in his lap.

“Oh god,” he gasped, “oh, fuck—”

“Wow, such language,” Cassie teased, prowling over on her knees and catching Tim in a messy kiss.

He gasped against her mouth, barely able to even keep their lips together with the way Conner was lifting him. He wasn't even moving his own hips, just pulling Tim up and down by the waist along his cock, like an overlarge fleshlight. The thought made him moan.

Bart was thrusting into his own fist, crowded up on the side. Tim tried to reach out to help, but his hands remained locked in place by the lariat.

Conner, for once, must have been as wound up as Tim, because suddenly he was bouncing Tim so quickly Cassie had to pull back, before yanking him fully down and stilling with a groan.

It was the only way Tim knew he'd come. Conner, of course, stayed maddeningly hard, and he couldn't feel Conner's seed inside him for what Bart had already left there.

Conner slowly gyrated Tim's hips, panting but not nearly as hard as Tim was. His own cock had swelled up quickly, after flagging while he'd been forced to hold still, and twitched with every move. Tim's hands jerked again, just barely unable to reach it at his sides. He hadn't been allowed to come yet.

“Hey, Bart, you want to go again before I do?”

Tim missed Bart's answer, when Cassie tilted his head for a better kiss and ran fingers feather-light up his cock, but he was pretty sure it was in the affirmative. Conner nudged him forward, Cassie sliding out of the way as he leaned Tim down until his shoulders were on the mattress. He gave a few teasingly tiny thrusts behind Tim, before his hands lifted away.

It was a superspeed switch. One moment, Conner's bulk was kneeling behind him, and the next it was Bart's smaller form draped over him, already sheathed inside.

Tim gasped, the friction hitting him belatedly.

“Okay?” Bart asked, wriggling himself into a steadier position.

Tim nodded. He had a second to think that he might relax around the thinner cock, and then Bart was vibrating in him, drawing a shout.

He couldn't tell if the pace was frenzied because Bart was already worked up, or just because he was _Bart_ , but a minute later the speedster was coming too, packing even more inside Tim. He softened, but Tim was still painfully hard, arms jerking constantly in an attempt to grab himself, almost sobbing.

“Do you want to come?” Cassie asked, leaning down, and Tim nodded frantically.

“Turn him over,” she said, looking past him.

Bart withdrew. Tim had a momentary reprieve as he was gently flipped onto his back, before Conner slid right back into him without a hint of resistance. Tim almost sobbed at the stimulation, so close to what he wanted.

“Don't worry; Cassie's got you,” said Conner, not moving.

Tim panted, eyes seeking her out. She was returning to the bed with a little foil package, quickly and lightly sliding the condom onto him. Tim gasped in anticipation. His stupid, spoiled, bastard meta friends were safe from STDs, but still took no chances on pregnancy.

Cassie shifted over top of him, unnecessarily steadied by both Bart and Conner's hands. The former was already starting to harden again. Cassie ducked to give Tim a kiss, and then slowly, torturously lowered herself down.

Tim moaned loud to finally have something around him—moans that only continued when Cassie and Conner set up a swift and hard rhythm.

They punched sounds out of him with every slam of hips, strength just barely held in check. For a minute, Tim tried to find his counterrhythm, tried to move with them, before giving in and letting the pair of them take care of it.

His cries increased, sensation mounting, until his hips twitched feebly in their grip as he came.

Cassie floated off him, granting a respite. Conner slowed his pace to do the same, as she carefully removed and discarded the condom. Tim panted with the deep thrusts, worn in a way that made him relaxed instead of exhausted.

Conner thrust harder a few times, and then stilled once more. Tim thought he might have felt it this time, the pressure of yet more come inside him. Kon was still hard, starting up against with scant pause.

“Give a girl a hand?” Cassie asked, flying over to Tim's head and landing with knees on either side of it.

Tim leaned up immediately to lick into her with what remained of his energy.

Conner and Bart didn't make it easy on him. Conner slammed progressively harder, rocking Tim's entire body with it as Cassie teased him for being so distracted. He finished with a grunt—and, god, no, no, it was just impossible that he was _still hard_ —and instantly swapped off with Bart. Tim jumped on the brief minute it took the speedster to warm up to redouble his efforts, finally making Cassie shake in climax and sag over him.

“Good job,” she gasped, slinging her legs over to flop beside him.

Tim couldn't answer. Bart was hammering at superspeed, making Tim's dick and its fully human refractory period valiantly try to rise again. He switched to vibrations at the end, shooting his seed into the stuffed mess of Tim's hole.

And then it was Conner again, rolling him onto his side, hitching Tim's leg up. His hips slammed hard enough to hurt, and Tim cried out in pleasure.

Bart again, Tim on his back, stuffing pillows under his hips to keep the absurd slew of their come from leaking out.

Conner, pressing his legs up to his shoulders to get even deeper. Bart, faster than ever, unless Tim was just losing sense of time. Conner, flying so he could fuck down into Tim's raised hips.

He kept thinking he couldn't possibly take any more, and then begging them to keep going every time they asked. Don't stop; don't have mercy; keep using him until they were spent. Cassie's mouth was on his neck, but he could barely notice, mind drifting on overwhelming sensation.

He couldn't say if they'd swapped again, wasn't sure how many more times it was before Conner drew his attention with a, “Fuck, Tim, look...”

His eyes lazily wandered down, finding Kon's fingers where they touched over his abdomen and the noticeable bulge within. Tim groaned.

“That's us,” breathed Conner. “You're so fucking full.”

“That's incredible,” said Bart.

Tim's head dropped back on a breathy moan. He was good; he did good, and he didn't even have to do anything.

“You wanna come again?” Conner asked, and it was only when he wrapped a hand around Tim that he realized he was hard again. “I think I got one more in me, depending on who you want.”

“Both,” Tim slurred. “All of you.”

“Like Kon and me in you together?” said Bart. He was laying beside Tim. Tim didn't know when he'd gotten there.

He nodded dazedly, unable to conjure more words.

He missed pieces of whatever stretching occurred, the positioning. Just found himself upright in Conner's lap again, legs wrapped around him, Kon's cock the only thing plugging it all in. Bart pressed up behind him. Cassie flew to squeeze herself between Tim and Kon.

He must have missed the condom too, because she was sinking down onto him, and he could've come right then, but he needed to hang on; he needed—

Bart, sandwiching them in with Kon, right against, and slowly—pressing—in—

“Holy shit,” Bart gasped, thrusting testingly.

“God,” breathed Conner, one arm reached between them to rub Cassie off. “So good. So fucking good for us, Tim, Jesus.”

“The best,” said Bart, pumping his hips slower than usual, him and Conner finding rhythm against each other as they filled Tim beyond rational bounds.

“You're amazing, Tim,” said Cassie, squeezing around him.

 _Amazing_ , he mind repeated. _So good for us. The best._ Stars prickled at Tim's vision.

“Come for us.”

So he did.

-

It's not a rule, but it's sure as hell _something_. Poorly kept secret, perhaps.

Some of the others refused to think about it, considering they had relatives involved, but Rose had delighted in appalling half the team by pointing out the elder Titans may well be doing the exact same thing this very moment.

Tim had called a firm moratorium on mentioning any family member. That was the only boundary he'd needed to enforce.

He was strapped up against the headboard, held tight all over in the way that gave him a paradoxical sense of security. Halfway between sitting and laying, pillows maneuvered behind his back to keep the curve from getting uncomfortable. His hands were lashed beside his head, his calves to his thighs so he couldn't straighten his spread-wide legs.

He'd second guessed the blindfold. It was something he went back and forth on, the adrenaline fueled pleasure of not being able to see anything, the relaxation of not _having_ to. Something he usually only did with very close groups, not this still solidifying mismatch.

But it was a...trust building exercise. Proving he trusted them, even if he was bad at expressing it. Letting them show they deserve it.

And Cassie, who he'd trusted for years, was still there if anything did go wrong.

She kept light contact with his arm, leaning on the headboard beside him. He didn't know where most of the others were, heady disorientation of the blindfold. M'gann's touch was subtle in his mind, where it definitely hadn't been on his body earlier. Rose, by contrast, now pinched and scratched along his thighs viciously.

Tim was far from averse to the stings of pain.

She brought the trail all the way in, until she could hook fingers to brusquely tug open his loose and wet hole. Whatever she pressed between her fingers was a lot blunter than he was used too.

“Any idea what this is, Boy Wonder?” Rose asked, voice low.

Tim fidgeted, trying to guess, but all he had to go on was the sensation against his hole. And, when Rose wedged the tip in with no small amount of effort, the sensation _inside_ him.

It tugged his rim to the point of pleasure-pain, but unevenly. Wide in one direction, far thinner in the other. So blunt at the front that it might have been flat. Not like any toy he was used too, stretching against him in unfamiliar ways that made his mouth drop open to breathe.

When she pressed it in slowly, there was a wider ridge just after the start, and Tim mewled.

“I'll give you a hint,” Rose said. “I found it in your locker.”

Tim's eyebrows furrowed, squeezing and shifting around the toy both to feel it out more and to torture himself. Despite certain pastimes and preferences, he had a well developed sense of propriety. He didn't keep sex toys in his Robin locker.

It wasn't a toy.

The realization of what it _was_ made him gasp.

Rose asked him a question, though, so he couldn't just get lost; he had to answer.

“It's the...” Tim swallowed hard. “It's the energy swords.” That I gave you, he didn't add. It would ruin the carefully crafted illusion that Rose had stolen them from him—the only way she would accept them.

Rose hummed, and the faint trace of approval made his head drop back, content.

“Well, just the one,” she said. “And just the handle. Not that the blade would hurt you, huh?”

Millimeter by millimeter she urged it inside, Tim helpless to do anything but take it.

“You made sure of that, right?” Rose continued. “The energy blades only cut objects, so I can't actually hurt any _people_.”

Ah. Right. The exact reason he didn't want to just gift them to her: the perceived judgment. No killing. There was a hint of that anger in her tone, and Tim felt Cassie stir beside him, sitting up. He tipped his head towards her in silent reassurance, waving her off.

It was part of the act. The scene. Rose leaned into certain things about the way Tim liked to be treated during this that the others usually pulled back on.

Still, whatever silent exchange went on between her and Cassie made her drop that line of inquiry.

“Not that you don't notice them going through you,” Rose said instead. “Sort of a tingle. Like being electrocuted.”

Tim should have expected she would test them out on herself once she realized they couldn't actually hurt her. The energy in the swords did draw on electricity, though not entirely. Not even close to as strong as an actual electrocution.

She twisted and shoved the handle further in, make him jerk with it. It was getting toward the end, not nearly as long as some of the toys Tim had taken, but too strangely shaped for that to give him relief.

Tim knew the swords well, helped design them himself, so he knew the base of them was sloped and rounded off. It was just the blade side that was flat and blunt.

“Would've—been easier—to put it in the other way,” he panted.

“Yeah. But then I woulda' had to hold it all weird and backwards.”

Like the possibility of slight inconvenience on her part was far more important than any reprieve she could give Tim. Him a toy to be used. He shuddered at the implication, cock surely dripping by now.

“Plus,” said Rose, voice getting closer to him but dropping into a whisper, “I couldn't have done this.”

She flipped the switch to activate the blade, and Tim arched up, mouth wide in a silent scream. Were it a real blade, he would've been sliced up to his neck, but instead shivers slammed through his body, energy racing from his throat to the handle inside him, making him shake and twist.

He couldn't wait for permission, couldn't even think, just came all over his own stomach with cries and moans, tears leaking from his eyes.

Rose didn't turn it off.

She twisted the handle, stretching him with perfect pain, fucking it in and out of him in increasing rhythm. Her hand wrapped around his spent cock, stroking as he wept with oversensitivity.

“Again,” she said.

-

It's not a rule, only it's a time-honored and important tradition, okay?

“I can't believe he's gonna ruin the tradition,” Cassie says, peering out to where the pint-sized Mean New Robin paces the training room.

She feels a little Scooby-Doo, with the three of them all stacked up in the doorway, but it's the best vantage point for lurking. And Conner is floating at the top anyway, so it's not like they're tripping over each other.

“This is why it's the Teen Titans,” Conner grouses, “and not the Ten-Year-Old Titans.”

“Our most sacred tradition,” Bart adds in complaint.

“Okay, not sure about that,” says Conner.

“I mean,” Cassie says, ignoring the sidebar as is their usual conversational flow, “I think it's the Teen Titans because there aren't a lot of ten-year-old crime fighters.”

“Actually, I'm pretty sure it's the Teen Titans because the people who started it happened to be teens,” says Bart.

“Fair,” says Cassie.

“There are totally ten-year-old crime fighters,” says Conner. “I'm only, like, three technically.”

“Doesn't count,” Bart and Cassie say in unison.

“Otherwise I'd count too,” Bart adds.

“How does the time-travel/resurrection math work into that?” Cassie wonders aloud.

“Don't worry about it.”

“Fine,” Conner huffs. “But there definitely are some. Like...Wally has little super speed twins, right?”

“Unimportant!” Cassie declares, shaking herself. “He is not ruining the tradition!”

Bart snaps to attention.

“He's not?” says Conner. Cassie glares at him until he rolls his eyes and also snaps to attention.

“He's not,” she says. “New Robin can't ruin the tradition, because we already have a Robin! Yes, ours is Red now.”

“And moody,” Bart adds.

“And I'm still sure about the cowl,” Conner says.

“Red, and moody, and making questionable sartorial choices—”

“And he's not on the team,” says Bart.

“And he's not currently, right now, technically speaking on the team,” admits Cassie.

“But he's coming back!” says Conner.

“But he's probably, maybe, possibly coming back!”

“For sure,” says Bart. “Maybe.”

“I believe,” says Conner, like they're talking about aliens instead of their weird friend. (And, you know, like he isn't half-alien himself.)

“Red, and moody, and—whatever, all of that,” Cassie continues. “But he is still Robin, and he is still ours, and _therefore_ the tradition is not ruined. And we still have his number.”

“And he may or may not still be DTF,” says Conner.

“That too. But the tradition remains untarnished. Because...friendship. And stuff.”

“Hooray friendship!” Bart cheers obligingly.

A sound from the training room draws their attention, and they all turn to see Mean New Robin has pulled out an actual fucking sword. He paces the room a few more steps like a predator, before slicing one of the training dummy's heads clean off.

Cassie stares at the decapitated lump of padding.

“So can we call Tim now?” Bart asks.


End file.
